


Command Performance

by evilmouse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Don't Try This At Home, Dubious Consent Fantasy, F/M, Face Slapping, Floor Sex, Hot Springs Smut, Inappropriate Use of the Force, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, No Safeword, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexy Wardrobe Destruction, Shameless Smut, Spreader Bars, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 23:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/pseuds/evilmouse
Summary: When Mara reveals a fantasy, Luke is exceptionally accommodating.





	1. Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frangipani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frangipani/gifts).



> frangipani was the inspiration, impetus, and incredible beta. Thank you for trapping me in your fandom vortex of amazing Skywalker smut.

His wife was beautiful. That wasn’t a new thought in Luke Skywalker’s head, but it was a welcome one, every time. After two years of marriage, Mara’s body wasn’t a mystery, but never lost its ability to weaken him. Luke was positive it never would. He could write a sonnet about each enticing physical attribute, starting with her fiery mane of hair (currently almost black, darkened by the water they relaxed in). In its normal state, it held the light of ten thousand blazing red stars, as if their dying embers had taken refuge atop her head. Her long, muscular legs, stretched languidly across the width of the pool, drove him to distraction. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d forgotten his train of thought as a slight movement, the smallest shift of her hip, had sent his mind to pornographic places when he was supposed to be representing the New Republic at some event. Mara’s defined arms, scarred and strong, stretched across the arc of the spring’s stony edge, open and inviting. Everything about her amazed him, especially the fact that she’d married him, but unlike her beauty, that was something he had gotten used to—the fact that Mara Jade had chosen him, committed herself so completely and passionately to their life together. She hadn’t changed at all, really, but now she was his, and that was all the change he’d ever wanted.

Luke wasn’t even trying to hide his erection under the translucent water. It was a testimony to his constant, unwavering attraction, but more than that, if you couldn’t feel amorous on your second honeymoon, when could you?

Mara’s emerald eyes watched him, appraising, her habitual look heated by the amused crinkle at their edges, the twist of her lip that meant she’d not just noticed his rigid cock (and to be fair, it would have taken a particularly strong case of myopia to miss it), but she was enjoying his visual feast of her naked body.

The Jedi couple had come to Carosi XII two days ago, both skeptical about the promised charms of this tourist trap. But the vacation had been a late wedding gift, from Lando, of all people, and he’d set them up in a secluded, luxurious chalet at the foot of the Eurae Mountains. It was as far as you could get from the capital and still partake of the famous hot springs on this ice planet. The chill was constant, the mountain air gusting down the slopes with knives in its breath. It was no surprise, Luke thought, that all anyone wanted to do here was sit in a hot bath and rut like Gamorreans. That was certainly the effect it had on them, in any case. 

Neither had any complaints, of course, and everything they needed was within the chalet grounds. Going from the bed to the private hot spring to the shower to the bed had become the rhythm of their days here. Sure, there was the occasional staccato of a drink or snack breaking up the sex. Expensive alcohol, gourmet food, hot baths, and nude Mara. Between her work obligations and his teaching schedule, finding time to get away had been about as easy as mining bene on Tatooine. Luke looked up with a smile at the icy mountain range ringing the valley. Yeah, he was happy here. 

Now, after countless rounds of that same old song, Mara had added new syncopation to the mix, bringing a bottle of Sunberry wine actually into the pool. Luke figured it was nostalgia on Lando’s part, that he’d stocked the chalet with stuff from Endor, Tatooine, and of course, Bespin.  
Mara’s full lips closed around the rim of her glass, still amused, eyes pointedly drifting down his chest to where the evidence of his arousal bobbed, periodically the tip breaking the surface.

“You going to do anything about that, Skywalker?”

Luke grinned, shrugged unselfconsciously. They hadn’t yet fucked in the hot spring—mainly because he wasn’t sure what sort of chemicals were in the water and what they would do to her natural lubrication, but if Mara was game, he was game. It wasn’t like he could refuse her anything anyway.

He set down his glass and pushed away from his side of the pool, the strange filmy liquid coating his shoulders as Luke drifted between her legs and placed a lazy kiss on her angular jawline. Mara turned into his lips, and sighed as his fingers grazed her breasts.

Reading her was easy, even without the Force bond. Luke knew she wanted more, her tongue exploring his mouth, her teeth nipping gently at his lower lip. He loved the familiar taste of her, the pressure of her body, the feel of her hands in his wet hair. He’d mastered kissing her like the most important lesson he’d ever learned, but Mara had also figured him out with the same ease she handled new Force techniques. Her water-wrinkled fingers dipped below the surface and wrapped his cock securely. She closed her legs around his waist, pulling her against him.

“Want to – ” Luke disengaged, his lips still brushing hers as he spoke.

“No,” she whispered, knowing the question but ready to try here, regardless of the consequences. To punctuate her negation, she released his erection and wrapped those strong arms around him. When she was straddling him, Luke lifted her up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. Instantly, her nipples stiffened, and he raised her just high enough for his mouth to take advantage. Mara made a satisfied sound, low in her throat, and wiggled against his chest, clamoring for his lap, trying to take him in. Luke’s hands tightened around her ass, keeping her too high for relief as his mouth continued loving her breasts. His tongue licked leisurely, his teeth biting occasionally, and Mara’s satisfied sounds evolved into whines of impatience as she pressed her chest into his face, leaning over him.

Luke ignored her, taking his time. If they were going to fuck in the hot spring, she was going to be more than ready when he entered her. He could wait.

Mara’s hands moved over his shoulders and down his back, fingernails scratching a warning along his spine. Luke laughed softly, relenting. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, starting to lower her excruciatingly slowly.

“You’re infuriating,” she snarled back, grabbing his hands forcefully to take charge. She wasn’t going to go slow, that much was obvious. Freed from Luke’s controlled descent, Mara sank onto his cock, one deep thrust to reach her depths. Her muscles contracted, tensing around him as it became obvious that the water wasn’t conducive to this activity. Luke felt the friction, tried to pull back, but Mara held him with arms, lips, and cunt, and began to move. He was sure it was going to chafe her, and him, but when he opened his mouth to protest, Mara gagged him with her tongue, pushing him even deeper inside her body. 

It was a little painful, Luke had to admit, but he tried to measure his concern, attempting to get a read on Mara. There was no reason to continue here if it didn’t feel good for her—and he didn’t want some romantic notion of making love in a hot spring to rob them of all the great sex they could have for the rest of day. Lack of lube, abrasion—it was a thing. 

His wife pulled away, as if sensing he wanted to touch her mind, read her thoughts. She threw her head back, wet hair slapping onto her arching back, and braced her hands on his shoulders as she rose and fell. Water splashed from the movement, escaping the edges of the pool. She was enjoying herself, so he made himself relax, turning his attention to the graceful lines of her neck, the weight of her breasts in his hands, the feel of her wet skin as their tempo increased. Luke met her thrusts, blue eyes riveted to her face as Mara groaned. He wondered how it could feel good, how she was enjoying this—too much resistance in her typically receptive body. He was robbed of the slick of her, feeling heat but no easy slide as she rose and fell.

Luke gently brushed her mind, opening up the bond to her, wanting her to feel good but reassure her that he didn’t care if they hit pause and relocated. A flash, an image flooded his mind: Mara, bent over the pool edge, exposed and lying on the ground from the waist up, hips and ass and legs still in the water, and he was fucking her roughly from behind, cybernetic hand yanking her hair back. Something escaping from his wife’s current fantasy, apparently. 

Mara slowed atop him, clearly understanding he’d received some of that, if not all. Luke wasn’t shocked, not exactly. They had shared fantasies, and although nothing super kinky, he’d enjoyed letting Mara explore his “boundaries” as she put it, pushing him out of his comfort zone. So if she wanted this…he could accommodate. Rough had frequently been fun for both of them. But the hair pulling…that was new.

She leaned into him, lips almost tentative, and Luke, decided, shoved Mara off his lap, spinning her waist in the water to face away. His arms swiftly lifted her over the edge of the spring, left hand pushing one elegant shoulder blade to lower her chest to the ground. He hoped the stone of the pool’s rim wasn’t going to dig into her skin, but trusted her to stop him if it was too much. For now, he’d do his best to imitate the position she’d had in her head

Unfortunately, due to the water stripping her natural lubrication, he couldn’t shove or slam into her cunt and feel good about it, so Luke slid Mara’s hips out of the water a little higher than in the mental picture he’d seen. Bending his head between her legs, he licked quickly, tongue harsh. The mineralized water tasted chalky on her folds, and he delved deeper, gliding inside where he could assist. Mara moaned, pushing down, but he was already away, spitting into his hand and sliding a generous amount of saliva inside her. Luke thrust up, arching his cock deep into her slit before lowering them both together back into the water. Better. Not completely smooth, but better.

Now the water was really splashing, sloshing outside the borders. Mara cried out and turned her head, looking over her shoulder, eyes glowing and lit with something dangerous as she met his. She liked it. Even though it was the opposite of ease and probably hurt. Maybe _because_ it did. In response, Luke fucked her harder, remembering the final piece of the image. His right hand reached out, fingers threading through stringy damp locks, so dark it didn’t look like Mara’s hair, not in this light. 

His fingertips cradled her scalp for a fraction of an instant and then he pulled back, his fingers finding purchase on the slick tresses, trapping her in a fisted ponytail, yanking her forehead up to the sky and neck forward. Luke almost came right then as Mara’s passion sparked into flame when her fantasy came to life. His efforts at control were mocked by the sight of her curved back, hands scrambling to keep her chest upright on the ground, and the sound of her moans as he pushed repeatedly into her protesting cunt.

He kept up the frenetic rhythm, left hand reaching for her clit, resisting the urge to tug her back against his body. She wanted to be against the stones, he reminded himself. As his middle finger pressed into her hard little button, Mara started bucking beneath him. The shrieks leaving her throat were like nothing he’d ever heard, plaintive and desperate. Another image crashed into his brain, Mara heaving, choking, as she climaxed. He didn’t understand it exactly, but it was too much for his own level of excitement to resist. Luke’s hand, still tangled in her sopping mane, wrenched Mara back to his chest as his hips slammed into her a final time, cock jerking as he came. 

Mara leaned against him, her head lolling back to rest in the curve between his neck and shoulder, gasping. Luke realized he was still holding her hair and released his grip, harder than it looked since her wet locks tangled around his fingers like they wanted to keep him there. Both of them were breathless, and neither seemed able to move for a long, lethargic moment. 

Luke wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but he wasn’t going to complain, as long as she was happy. And he could feel her contentment, tinged with some surprise. The start of a stupid grin tugged at the edges of his mouth. She did that to him frequently, but it was rare that he was able to return the favor. And what had she expected him to do, anyway, after she’d thrown that fantasy vision his way?

Their heartbeats slowed, both sinking lower into the hot water as cold temperatures started to intrude on their post-coital bliss. Mara finally turned to face him, arms travelling around his waist and pulling him into a long kiss.

Luke knew she wasn’t delicate, but he had been a little worried about the consequences to their lovemaking here, especially when it got as athletic as they just had. Mara seemed fine, but he wanted to ask, knowing it would probably just exasperate her. He bit it back, but she sensed the concern anyway and kissed him again before snuggling alongside him in the water.

“I’m more than fine, Luke,” she said. Her voice was even as she cut off that line of questioning, then tilted her chin to catch his eyes. “And so are you, even if I’m not exactly an impartial judge.”

He looped an arm around her, pulling her closer and placing a kiss against her temple. The heat of the liquid was getting to him, making Luke feel slightly dazed. His free hand reached for the glass of wine sitting on the edge. He took a sip and made a face—the water they’d been splashing like Whaladons had found its way into the glass. Not exactly a good cocktail.

He wanted to ask her about the vision, the last one. The choking, the breathlessness and intense arousal he’d felt rolling off her. They were married, after all, and she should be able to tell him what she wanted. He’d shown he would accommodate time after time.

“Mara?”

“Yes, husband?”

He grinned then. Mara called him that when she was either in an exceptionally good mood or feeling exceptionally self-conscious. He guessed it was both this time. Was she embarrassed? Luke didn’t think there was much in the galaxy that would make her too embarrassed to share, but he had succeeded in making her blush a time or two. Still…he didn’t want it to be uncomfortable or weird. He’d try to make it easy for her.

“That was inspired, wife,” he matched her tone. “Good idea.”

She shifted against him, wincing slightly and Luke thought maybe “good idea” was premature. She’d basically been fucked raw, or almost raw, and even if she wanted it, enjoyed it, she’d still be sore.

“You’re wondering where that came from?”

Luke shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He didn’t need to know where it came from—sexual fantasies were not as simple to parse as the average psych center would have you believe. He had a few wacky ones of his own, and wouldn’t try to dissect Mara’s desires to determine their origin. He just wanted her to share them, fulfill them for her when he could.

“I just wondered about the end there, the…”

Her shoulder pushed a little harder into his chest, as if she wanted to be absorbed into his ribcage. Luke squeezed her gently, trying to finish the thought, but she beat him to it.

“Breathplay?”

He laughed, but felt a bit uneasy. “Is that what it’s called?”

Mara fought back a smirk. “Innocent. The Jedi Master is an innocent.”

Luke pulled away slightly, turning so they were facing each other, still keeping his voice light. “Hey, centuries of institutional celibacy I’m making up for here…Anyway, tell me.”

One arched eyebrow questioned his seriousness. “Tell you?”

He nodded, blue eyes searching her face. “Sure. We can…you know, do that, if you want.”

In truth, he’d found it disturbing and exciting in a way he wouldn’t have been able to explain. Mara, in her fantasy, had been breathless, but it wasn’t his hand on her neck. It was a Force choke, and it was probably a bad idea to find something so dangerous so sexy, but when he received her thoughts, he felt her feelings too. Mara found it hot, thus so did he, by proxy.

She smiled, a tentative, careful one, as if deciding. Luke knew she’d tell him, so he waited, hands reaching again for her hips, bringing her so she half-sat, half-floated against him. Finally, as if it didn’t matter, Mara shrugged, water drops speckling her skin as her shoulders broke the surface and submerged again. Luke knew better, could tell his reaction to what was coming was important to her.

“It’s pretty common for a female fantasy,” she started, and then seemed to decide to be blunt, green eyes narrowing at her own hesitation to explain. “I mean, to not be in control.” She looked openly into Luke’s face, arms resting loosely around him. “To be forced.”

Forced. As in…dominated, submissive. That was something they’d done. And yes, it was a common fantasy for everyone. But what she was talking about seemed different, and he tried to understand. Not just control then. Mara was suggesting complete, involuntary submission--the fantasy of being taken and used, not just dominated. And the inevitable helplessness that would result. He got it then, feeling stupid for taking so long.

“A rape fantasy.”

It wasn’t a question, and Mara didn’t take it as such, holding her breath to see what he’d say next. Luke could see the image in his head, her fighting for air, struggling…

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t completely at a loss as to how to make this scenario play out. How did he rape his wife? Wasn’t there some line about how you couldn’t rape the willing? Mara must have some ideas, he figured, but then he thought of something else. Just now, in the hot spring, he knew it had been painful, but she’d liked it. Wanted it. So was that part of it? 

“But more than control right?” He wanted to understand, if they were going to do this. “Like…the breathplay, some measure of…”

Luke could hear himself and that was the problem. It sounded so completely strange to say this out loud, but Mara didn’t seem to feel the same way, her hips sliding closer to his cock beneath the water, her breath catching as she leaned in and kissed him.

“Pain,” she said, the smile on her face completely at odds with the word.

He hated to ask, but he wondered if she really wanted what she was asking, particularly the whole hurt and choking thing. “Are you sure? I mean, have you done this before?”

She kissed him again, shook her head, answering the latter question first. “No, Luke, I haven’t.” Her hands trailed down the front of his chest, over his pecs, lower, tracing the line of his sternum down his center. “And yes, I am.”

He felt regret for asking, glad she hadn’t gotten mad at him for the insensitivity of it all. Of course she hadn’t. The whole thing was a huge exercise in trust, after all. If you were going to surrender all control to someone else…be completely vulnerable and powerless…

“Okay,” he said again, and Mara’s smile spread slowly, lighting up her whole face, and she kissed him, hard. When she pulled back, Luke was still considering the way forward.

“So tell me what you want,” he finally said, then felt the need to clarify. “I mean, I get the concept, but what are the rules?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No rules.” Mara’s voice was firm, certain.

“No rules?” Luke’s voice slipped into a higher register as he repeated the syllables. They always had some sort of rules, when their sex life moved to a kinkier plateau. No use of the Force, that was a big one. She must have figured that went without saying, Luke decided. “But no using the Force, right?”

“No rules.” Mara shook her head, eyes burning into his now. “Luke, could you really control me, you think, without the Force?”

He wasn’t sure, but it sort of sounded fun to try. They’d wrestled, roughhoused, and although it was one of their more rare types of foreplay, it inevitably led to amazing sex. Still, Mara had a point. It wouldn’t do for him to go at it half-assed. If she wanted to be subdued, he’d have to do it, and the way she was looking at him now made Luke see that his wife had no intention of surrendering without a fight.

“Point taken,” he acknowledged, starting to get a little uncomfortable at the intensity surrounding this discussion. Even if it was roleplaying, using the Force like that seemed like a Dark path to go down.

He tried to center himself, focus on the rest of it. When they’d done bondage stuff before, consent had been explicit. The nature of this fantasy meant consent could not be asked, nor given. So… “And uh…safe word? Something to tell me you’ve had enough?”

Mara shook her head again. “That would ruin the whole thing. No safe word.” Luke’s eyes widened, but she was serious. He could tell if he pushed, she would get annoyed, but he was trying to get comfortable with the concept, and this “no rules” “no safe word” seemed like precarious starting points.

She always knew what he was thinking, Luke realized, as Mara’s waterlogged hands moved down to his thighs, stroking lightly. “It’s _you,_ Luke—that’s the safety.” She smiled again, leaning against him, lips brushing his ear as she proceeded to detail in blunt and shocking whispers the things she expected him to subject her to. 

When Mara leaned back, smug and sexy, Luke couldn’t think straight. Or speak, as if he dared to open his mouth whatever came out wouldn’t sound anything like Basic. The blood in his body fled his brain, and he stood up in the hot spring, lifting Mara up in his arms and headed towards the bedroom. They only made it halfway, as the slippery glissade of soaking wet skin against soaking wet skin erased the last shreds of self control. Luke all but dropped his wife to the thick hallway carpet and they were on each other like banthas in heat, hands and tongues everywhere. He’d take her like she wanted, he already knew that was a definite, but just the possibilities, the planning, the potential was enough to make this moment violent with promise. 

Mara rode him, hands spread hard and pressing into his chest. Luke was filling her, could feel the pain in her body from the earlier damage they’d inflicted upon each other. It was exquisite; Luke didn’t even care that his cock felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper earlier—at least now everything was wet and welcoming. The expression of pure pleasure on Mara’s face was enough to send him over the edge, but before he went, he decided to try, in this safer space, to evoke the same explosive response as in the hot spring. He gripped her hips, flipping her onto her back, still rooted inside her cunt. Her gaze met his as their fucking sped up. Slowly, deliberately, and as gently as anyone could possibly do so, Luke wrapped his right hand around her throat, watching the look in her eyes as Mara’s face slackened from the sensation, her lips parted and panting as he increased pressure. Inexorably, carefully. 

Her breaths became shorter, hitching, and then stopped as he squeezed ever so slightly harder. As if the total asphyxiation was a trigger, Mara spasmed uncontrollably around his cock. The feeling was incredible, and the view equally stunning. She was dazzling, her orgasm blinding, boiling away heat as she shuddered beneath him. It felt daring to look at her directly, as if her climax could scald him too, the afterimage burned behind his retinae. 

He quickly relaxed his fingers around her neck, and just as suddenly felt her reciprocate, using the Force. Luke’s eyes blurred, then black spots popped into his periphery as he realized Mara was Force choking him. He followed her orgasm into that same delightful abyss, lungs deprived and heart battling for oxygen. It was twisted but mind-blowing, and Luke gasped and then cried out as he came inside her, precious breath sucked haltingly into his chest as he collapsed into her body.

The carpet wasn’t hospitable enough to succumb to the lassitude that beckoned, and Luke pushed up, feeling weak and confused. He didn’t really want to examine what had just happened in any more detail. It had been good, he would leave it there. Mara trailed the back of her hand down his face, the gesture tender, and he took it, kissed the palm.

“When?” she asked, and he knew the question.

“When you least expect it,” Luke returned, feeling wicked and wonderful, and like the luckiest guy in the universe.


	2. Performance

Luke didn’t feel calm. He’d planned, prepared for weeks since Mara confided her fantasies. It wouldn’t be incorrect to say they had consumed his thoughts— popped up in entirely inappropriate places, talking to diplomatic representatives or giving a lecture on the Jedi Code. The challenge of it, the difficulty and depravity of the concept, had made him a little obsessed.

The first problem had been the basic premise—a real, no rules scenario where the man she married forced himself on her. Maybe with a capital F. It was a common fantasy, he got that, but taken seriously, it also was a dark request, and he hoped that it didn’t issue from a black place.

He’d come to terms with it, sensing how much she wanted this. Luke had long been able to do that with Mara’s other sexual kinks, but this one’s unknown onset had lingered a bit longer, perhaps because of her past, perhaps because he’d always suspected but never pried regarding any supplementary Imperial duties or perverse additional billets that Mara had held in those days. Mara never was one to willingly surrender control of any situation, and that made the forcefulness of this desire more surprising. Was it a guilt-avoidance mechanism? It was preferable, he supposed, to another possibility--that she’d been used against her will and was replacing old memories with new. Luke made himself reject further contemplation--the potential origins were too troubling to consider. 

Once he’d recognized the part his own nervousness was playing, Luke had been able to analyze and demolish it. At least in the conceptual sphere. Luke was no longer hesitant nor confused about his role here. And it _was_ a role, he told himself. He was up to the part.

The second…well, not exactly a problem, but the vocabulary she’d used to describe what she wanted had lingered. Luke’s brain had memorized the fantastic and profane requests she’d flung at him back on Carosi XII, etching them into his soul like filthy promises he’d sworn to keep. 

Compounding his frustration was a dawning awareness that he _wanted_ to do this, perhaps as much as her. He hadn’t expected that—but he should have been used to Mara’s ability to elicit fascinating and previously unacknowledged responses from his body by now.

But here, so close to the moment, Luke couldn’t focus. He’d been ceaselessly thinking in painstaking detail about every naughty and debauched thing he was going to do to her. He wasn’t an amateur, nerves forged by time and circumstance to match the steely blue of his eyes, but he’d never had a task quite like this one. As much as he was looking forward to it insidious doubt had started to slither through his resolve the longer he waited.

She’d gone to Cassander to accompany a trade delegation, to impart the benediction and legitimacy that only a Jedi of the New Order could provide. With much grumbling, Mara had accepted her duty in this regard. She was well-suited to it, having visited the planet before during her smuggler days. Luke pretended to hate it, but it set her fantasy in motion, so he’d grinned a bit more than usual upon seeing her off.

“You look smug, Skywalker,” Mara had hurled the words at him, lips compressed as she tried not to smile.

“Who, me?” Luke answered, doing his best Han impression. She got it, and laughed.

“And they say _I’m_ a bad influence on you,” she sighed, giving him a long kiss and holding him close.

And he’d said goodbye, saying all the right things, soon following her in secret to the Outer Rim.

The signing ceremony had ended tonight, and the banquet that followed, he was certain, would have bored his wife to sorrowful lows. So Luke was surprised to still be waiting, hours after night had fallen, after the final course in the parade of sixteen would have been served. Everything was long since ready; it had been no problem to enter her hotel room, to prepare the accessories he planned to use.

Finally. He sensed her, walking down the corridor, a dimly lit tunnel plagued by imitation Draggulch art and ugly carpeting. Luke checked his shields and cloaking, assured himself that he was hidden from her, his presence in the Force like a vacuum to anyone scanning the room. Taking up a position to the side of the door, he considered again. Mara was strong, but might not even fight him. Luke couldn’t decide if that easy acquiescence was preferable to the alternative—the need for him to demonstrate his dominance quickly and unquestionably.

The whistling glide of the portal made his muscles tense further, everything tight and alert. His wife entered the room, unawareness lasting just a fraction of an instant before she sensed something amiss. He could see it in her back muscles, the stiffening of her spine, exposed by the fashionable cut of the elegant gown she was wearing. _Not standard Jedi wardrobe,_ Luke thought with a small smile. It was one of her favorite dresses, actually, a long, sparkly, shimmering lavender thing, and he felt a pang of anticipatory regret at what he planned to do to it.

She didn’t see him, but suddenly Mara’s lightsaber was in her hand, ignited and humming with purpose. Luke felt pride—she was relatively calm, always a professional, her sharply attuned danger sense clearly serving her well. He also liked witnessing her first choice of defense—not her hold-out blaster, not for a few years now. But the glittering plasma weapon was deadly, and he couldn’t allow her reactions to get ahead of her, it was far too early for that.

 _Showtime._ Luke used a Force pull to drag the weapon from her grip. It was almost too easy. She obviously wasn’t expecting to confront another Jedi. The hilt slapped into Luke’s palm as Mara spun to follow the trajectory of her preferred weapon’s flight, hold-out already flying to her fingers.

Her face had been set, harshly sculpted by the shadows of the room. But upon seeing him, it started to dissolve into something softer, a genuine look of surprise, tinged with something else, annoyance perhaps, building behind emerald eyes. He could almost hear the complaints that would come from her lips. 

Nothing compared to what she was going to do when he tore that dress to shreds, probably.

Before she could speak, Luke was on her, pulling Mara into a hostile kiss, nothing romantic about it. This was an animal push of lips on lips, teeth and tongue, and he could feel Mara’s excitement flaring through the Force as well as through the heat of her skin, curves flattening against his chest, greedy hands starting to roam. He sensed confusion at his shields, astonishment at his presence, but everything was subverted by her want, powerful and sharp. He had to be careful not to lose focus. Luke made himself pull back, hands shoving her away. She lost her balance, stumbling from the unexpected rejection and its strength. 

“Luke?” Mara’s voice wasn’t as angry as he’d expected. She was harder to piss off than he’d thought.

He waved a hand at her, no intention of pushing too hard, but Mara all but turned to stone, the Force capturing her limbs mid-movement, like a holo that should be blurred but was horribly, frightening clear. A trickle of fear escaped the frozen wall around his wife, rapidly stifled, but Luke sensed it. Subjection should be total, but he wasn’t used to playing with his power like this. Alarmed, Luke immediately released her, afraid of stopping her heart or lungs with that much strength. Before she could recover, he stepped to her side and slapped binders on her wrists, securing her arms behind her back.

Almost as a reflex, Mara tried to step over them, get them to the front. She rushed at him, and Luke grabbed her mid-charge, tossing her across the room to the bed. She landed with a grunt, already trying to get to her feet. He could feel her surprise at not being able to get out of the binders. They weren’t typical Mandalorian design, but ones he’d modified based on the Geonosian standard. If she fought too hard, it would hurt. A lot.

“Luke…” He heard something else in his name that time, and it was followed by a yelp as Mara proved his earlier thought—the binders provided more than just a sting. He was next to her now, on the bed, and Luke pulled the gag from where he’d set it under the pillow. He couldn’t suffer her to keep talking, every syllable a blaster bolt to his resolve. If he was going to follow through, she had to be silenced. He could see Mara’s eyes widen, and felt her dawning comprehension of the situation.

Abruptly, she fought back. Luke had known it was a possibility, but he hadn’t expected a Force choke, and his vision dimmed as he pushed back against Mara’s power. That deserved a punishment, he thought, eyes tearing. 

Luke redirected her energy, making Mara gasp and convulse, and then he flipped her roughly onto her stomach, straddling her and wrenching up her rebelling arms. He looped the gag beneath her chin, releasing her from his ricochet Force choke and substituting it with paralysis. Mara lay immobile, anything but calm. He could hear her whole body screaming in anger at him through the Force, but that was endurable if he could avoid verbal entreaties, attempts at logic, or begging. He’d close himself off to her, to their bond, for the duration. That was part of this, and the only thing that would make it work.

She didn’t want the gag, that was obvious, but Luke paid no attention, snapping her up by her hair, and sliding the thermoplastic shape between her lips. Mara’s muscles were constricted, useless, but he felt her mentally fighting him with everything she had. It made him slightly guilty, knowing how strong she was and still how it was too easy to take control. 

Now he could hear her in his head, and cursed under his breath. She hated the gag, she was livid, but he continued, buckling the intricate strap tight, lifting her disheveled hair to make sure there was no unintentional give.

_NO._

The word was loaded with authority, and Luke flinched, impressed. _No rules,_ is what he responded to himself—this was what she asked for—and dismissed the further vitriol she was flinging his way. But if he’d thought Mara was angry about being gagged, that was nothing compared to what happened when he started on her dress. The shriek in his head was so loud that Luke let the Force paralysis drop. He was going to rip it off her, that was inevitable, but he preferred to deal with those consequences on even ground. It felt more fair to offer her the chance to struggle. And Mara did struggle.

She flipped to face him with practiced confidence, her head launching forward. Luke deftly dodged the headbutt, and pushed her forehead unceremoniously back. Her neck strained as he pressed her deep into the lumpy pillow, arm muscles taut and aching from the effort. Two fingers hooked under the defenseless shoulder strap of her gown and he yanked, feeling a disturbing satisfaction as seams gave way, splitting and separating.

Mara jerked and writhed beneath him as he continued, her protests muffled by the gag. There was an inescapable symbolism to the dismantling, this destruction of something so painstakingly assembled… it made Luke feel more controlled, not less, and he pulled harder, delicate material tearing in all directions now. Thus persuaded of his commitment, Mara stilled as if in shock; Luke welcomed her capitulation. He took his time now, ripping the fabric in unusual ways, slicing holes with his fingers along her midriff, lengthening the slits along heated thighs to waist- high gashes. He grabbed the weapons hidden along the lines of her body, her back, her torso, her legs, tossing them carelessly into the refresher and telekinetically locking the door. Mara’s breath caught, and Luke forced himself not to look into her face or seek forgiveness.

Her hands were still secured at her back, and she seemed resigned that the dress was going to be a casualty of this evening. That didn’t mean she was happy, of course, tension and anger radiating from every cell of her body. Luke’s fingers found frayed threads from his initial disrobing and tugged, unraveling sections until it was nothing but a mess of strings and sparkles, asymmetrical chaos that bore no resemblance to its original purpose. 

Mara lay, panting and angry, between his legs. Luke could almost feel her plotting something, noticing that his wife had erected her shields with the diligence and commitment of a New Republic Admiral. She wasn’t giving an inch, but that was all right. He was supposed to be taking everything by force anyway.

It was hard not to kiss that mouth, gagged or not, but Luke dragged his attention to her hidden arms. She was lying on them, but not quite as restrained as he wanted. He knew his wife well enough to know what he couldn’t see he shouldn’t trust. He tilted his head, appraising, and Mara took that opportunity to strike back, a decorative vase from the room’s garish décor crashing into his head. Luke lost his balance atop her, almost slipping as more, smaller loose items flew through the air. She started to buck beneath him at the same time, trying to throw him off, but Luke had already recovered, and wrapped his hand tightly around her neck in a warning, fingers curving to rest on the nape. Objects crashed to the floor as he lowered his body over hers. His thumb rested against her throat, along the swollen, pulsing artery. The fury of hot blood raging beneath his touch was disquieting. Mara’s heartbeat was pounding out a battle cry; Luke had known it would be something like this, but the reality was altogether different than what they’d done before. This wasn’t a fun tussle before bed--it was no retreat, no quarter, no rules.

The turmoil she incited was combustible, even as he tried to resist. An unassailable tension was coiled in his stomach, his whole body tight, wanting release. Every time Mara jolted her opposition, it felt like he could explode, lose control, and turn into something primal and mindless, even dangerous.

And she knew. Luke accepted that something inside of him was being laid bare. He was already complicit, and it was too late to turn back, to escape the woman urging him to dominate her on the bed. Luke took a deep breath, centering himself. It was difficult with his wife beneath him, her competing respiration volatile, incensed eyes roaring what her mouth couldn’t. He had been calm when this started; he would be again. Maybe he liked this… maybe even wanted it, but that private confession wouldn’t help still the madness in his veins. He knew what it was to be dominant; here he felt a little too close to reckless.

It was important to remember this was a performance, even as his efforts to dull the passions cleaving his guts felt like an imitation of composure, superficial and fragile. There was lust, shame, frustration, all working to erode his self-control. Recognizing it, accepting it, discarding it. That was how to keep from being overpowered by his own weaknesses. Another deep breath. Two. Three. Better.

Mara had also managed to diffuse her rage, the fluttering pulse at her throat slowing as he watched. Luke placed a kiss at the top of the corded vessel in her neck, tracing it with his lips down to her collarbone. His other hand moved between her legs, and Mara pushed her hips deeper into the mattress while opening her thighs, as if undecided as to whether she was welcoming or refusing him.

She was so wet. The softness of her, in contrast to the tension everywhere else, was magnificent. His cock was already stiff and willing, but it was far too soon for that. Luke pushed aside the edge of her panties and shoved two fingers inside her cunt. He smiled at her widened eyes from the sudden penetration and depth. She groaned around the gag, but her expression was still defiant. He pulled out and plunged in again, but Mara had better control this time, lying motionless, a mockery of submission. 

Luke glided his fingers up, along her seam to her clit, a not-too-gentle pinch commanding a reaction. He nodded at her closed eyes, the slight wince from the pleasured pain. She was shielding, but her body told him everything he needed to know.

He sat up then, pulling at his own belt, and her eyes flew open at the sound. She squirmed under him, and Luke was sure she was trying to free her arms. Not in the plan. When the belt was free of its loops, he raised himself higher on his knees, flipping Mara again onto her stomach, and quickly bound her upper arms with the belt’s length. Her hands tried to touch him, fingers grasping into nothingness, and Luke spun her back easily to face him.

The irregular gold in Mara’s eyes gleamed like flecks of bloodlust as she settled, and then tried to Force choke him again. Luke slapped her, not too hard, but enough to stun her and secure his release. He lifted her chin higher in his hand, kissing her neck in reproof, sucking and bruising with his mouth as she squirmed under him. 

If she tried again, he’d have to go harder, and although she’d indicated his enthusiastic enforcement of her compliance was welcome, he was unwilling to make it the entire exercise. He had accepted the role, but he couldn’t relish it if incessant aggression was required.

Again Mara lay still, like a hibernating siltcrawler. The Force, her power, seethed angry and impotent with the sweat from her pores. Luke met the blaze of her glare and gave a slight nod of approval. He knew she was unrepentant, but that didn’t matter if she surrendered. He didn’t need concurrence or humility, just submission.

Mara’s arms were bent strangely, and Luke guessed they hurt. The position was unnatural, and her physical objections probably exacerbated the situation. As if she could read his mind, Mara rotated underneath him, her legs lashing out as if to strike. He stopped her ankle easily mid-arc, pinning her, and then flipped her away. Luke heaved upward on her arms, hearing a rush of air leaving her lungs at the movement, and took that opportunity to finish stripping the last ribbons of evening finery from her body. It was becoming clear that the spreader bar he’d brought was going to be necessary.

Mara kicked out one high-heeled foot, feral, targeting his knee and taking him by surprise. Luke loosened his hold briefly, then slammed his full weight onto her legs, a stern reprimand for her threat. She was as intractable as he’d expected. This time he didn’t use the Force, wanting her to understand her powerlessness, no matter the method. His legs spread to hold hers in place, the heels of his boots pushing the straps of her shoes to the floor. His hands wrapped easily around the belted forearms where she still fought his hold. Mara’s wrists clashed, then the rebounding sting of the binders made her stiffen and yield.

His heart hammered in his chest, skin flushing from the surge of blood. Luke was doing his best to appear impassive, but he still felt drunk, teetering on the brink of something hazardous and seductive. The air in his lungs was thick, the blood viscous and throbbing in his veins. She wasn’t easy to keep in place, and he could almost hear Mara’s scorn at his reaction to the situation. Her legs were trapped, but she thrust her hips under his weight energetically, erotic challenge in the movement. It was provocative as much as anything else, and Luke looked down at the barely there white panties that were begging to be separated from Mara’s perfect ass. Soon.

Enough. Her thighs and feet still were a problem. Luke slid down to the end of the mattress and Force pulled the leg spreader bar from where he’d placed it in the closet. Durasteel ankle binders were attached to either end. When he’d purchased it, the Rodian clerk had suggested getting ones with soft liners. Easy to refuse. 

One of the worst aspects of his preparation had been how to incorporate the pain she’d requested… It wasn’t that he was worried about Mara; it was the difficulty of figuring out his own limits—not hers—that made the whole thing a challenge. Durable, metallic cuffs that would bruise but not cut, that seemed like a wise decision. Luke already knew what his comfort zone was, although Mara seemed intent on expanding it. Rough, raw sex, bad lube, hair pulling, spanking, pain, and choking. The list gave him plenty to work with without having to add more to his shopping list. The spreader bars were practical—as much for his own requirements as hers. And if here, in the moment, he decided to improvise, well, that was all right. No rules.

He gripped her left foot firmly, drawing it into the cuff as she paused, trying to figure out what was happening, turning her head to glower at him over her shoulder. As Luke locked the first restraint around the ankle joint, Mara jerked her right knee towards her elbow, wresting herself free, and then sat up, driving her heel hard into his side. It hurt, and white exploded behind Luke’s eyelids. He reacted without thinking, yanking her off the bed roughly, one hand at her left bicep, the other towing her hair. He hauled her to the center of the room as Mara made a noise like a yelp through the gag, drowned out by the metal bar trailing noisily on the floor.

The briefest flick of his wrist froze her, Luke forgetting his earlier thought about abandoning Force powers. He didn’t like the precarious look in her eyes. But he’d come prepared for that too. And based on how annoyed she’d been about the gag, he expected she’d be equally enraged by a blindfold. Luke reached in his pocket, drawing out the opaque material.

_NO._

There it was again, adamant, serious. Mara trying to telepathically force him to satisfy her conditions. But that was counter to the whole premise, wasn’t it? He placed a kiss on her nose, knowing it would drive her crazy with its condescending overtones, and replied:

_Yes._

He wrapped the blindfold twice around her head, securing it with a complicated series of knots that he felt confident would resist any easy telekinetic untying. Almost immediately he felt relief. This was already easier without those amazing, condemning eyes. 

Now Luke wasted no time in fastening her other ankle to the spreader bar, enjoying how she looked, on display and vulnerable. The bottom bar he fixed to the floor, weighted and tied in place. 

The second cylinder slid through the gaps made between her back and biceps, assuring discomfort and compliance. When Luke was sure it was well-placed, he removed his belt from her arms. He next threaded a chain through the semicircle that lay mid-point, watching appreciatively as Mara’s chest was thrust forward by the severe angle. She groaned when he secured it. It was high, but the Rodian had assured him the stressed position didn’t do more than cause an “acceptable amount” of pain. He’d monitor her, in any case, but figured Mara’s definition of “acceptable” was probably far beyond what he’d permit.

Luke stepped back, taking in the scene, as he released his hold over her. The spartan hotel room didn’t deserve a splendid centerpiece like his wife, the dull bedclothes and threadbare drapes poor excuses for staging. The utilitarian lights were inadequate, their unsteady illumination casting shadows that danced across the four walls in a crude pantomime of the pornographic drama unfolding within.

And Mara, as usual, was beautiful, no matter the surroundings or her unnatural posture. Admittedly, he’d never seen her quite like this—standing bound, legs spread wide, arms immobilized, elbows pointing straight behind her, bent and restrained by the bar at her back. Her skin glowed pale and even, breasts displayed to perfection, her shoulders and arms only more defined by the obscene position. Every curve, every taut muscle beneath her skin looked simultaneously defiant and inviting. Luke knew he was supposed to be the tormentor in this scenario, but he felt more like the worshipper, wanting to kneel before her and let his tongue convey the depth of his devotion. But, he reminded himself, he played the god in this mise-en-scéne, and Mara, for all her charms and enticements, was supposed to serve his whims, not the other way around.

She was still, as if evaluating her options. Luke stood at a distance, curious. He watched her shiver, wondering if it was from the temperature or something else. Mara wasn’t naked, but her underwear wasn’t providing much in the way of coverage. There was something both innocent and indecent about their presence in this situation, as if her modesty were being mocked. Her lips moved, adjusting to the gag, trying to find space around it. Slowly, Mara tested each limb in turn, as Luke watched, transfixed. Her left foot lifted, halted. Then right. She tried to turn, blocked by the bar against her shoulder blades. Torrents of frustration bled into the air surrounding her.

_Luke…_

He received, ignored. Luke stepped around to her lovely ass, letting one finger drift along its curve as he admired her. His hand flattened against her body, warm on her skin, drinking in her indecision. Resist… or enjoy… His movements were confident, tracing the definition in her muscles, grazing, pushing. When his finger travelled beneath the hem of her panties, Mara moaned into the gag, hips lurching.

_Take off the fucking gag._

Luke kept the steady pressure on her skin, following the movement of her pelvis when she tried to evade his touch. Sure fingers hooked the sides of her underwear and pulled mercilessly, tugging it tight into the crack of her ass. Rough material grated against her most sensitive parts, and Luke drew back his hand, bringing it down to spank her. It was a cruel, unforgiving slap, not playful, not designed to arouse or incite. Its sting imparted ownership and command, not pleasure. And if it also carried the message that she should shut up, that this was not the time to give orders, that was a bonus.

Mara moved as much as she was able, which wasn’t a great deal. Luke’s hand returned to her ass, insultingly tender, stroking, discovering, rewarding her silence. He dipped between the material splitting her cheeks and pressing into her skin, exploring every hidden place. Mara fisted her fingers, veins standing out in her neck as his other hand slid lightly down the front of her crotch. As he began a more aggressive probe at her rear, Luke mirrored the same brutal treatment using the material covering her cunt, yanking the panties inside her slit, abrasive up against her clit. Mara pushed uselessly, trying to expel him.

Luke couldn’t stop himself from placing his lips against the stretched skin of her back, an arbitrary pressure that was carefully applied and removed. Deliberate, but with no set bearing or route, his kisses moved lower, their softness an affront to the reality of her captivity. His concentration bore the mark of ritual as Luke’s hands wove a complementary pattern, aimlessly wandering everywhere and anywhere.

His lips traveled around to her chest, fighting to keep his steady pace. He stopped at one breast, hot tongue sucking at her nipple through the bra’s material. Mara pressed into his mouth as he teased and tormented, teeth scraping and biting. Luke was trying to stall, delay, but desire won out and he ripped the fabric from the clasp above her ribs, exposing her to the sterile air. Lips, tongue, teeth and hands all worked together to abuse her breasts, pulling, slapping, tugging. Overstimulation was his goal—Luke wanted to lance into Mara’s remaining equilibrium and decimate it with a targeted strike. As he felt her falter, one hand moved back between her thighs, grazing the material pulled razor thin and deep, slicing into her clit, fingers skimming along the line of her as the cloth was pulled to the side. 

Mara yelled soundlessly against the gag as Luke continued to explore every part of her below the waist. She tugged uselessly against her restraints, unconvincingly distraught, to his interpretation, as the moisture between her thighs was swelling to a flood. 

_The fucking gag off now!_

Luke ignored the plea, wishing there was a way to telepathically gag her. He cloaked himself once more, hoping it would discourage her. She could technically communicate, but ideally his preference for invisibility would make his intent explicit. But she tried again, her mental voice softer, distinctly un-Mara-like. 

_Luke? I’ve had enough._

That was as believable as a sales pitch from an Anchorhead huckster, and he dismissed her once more. She wanted this, wanted him to disregard her pleas. _Even if I beg._ She’d been quite clear that in this instance, “no” didn’t mean “no.” He should keep going.

His roaming fingers were relentless and strong, and Mara’s chin fell forward in apparent surrender, no further attempt to deter him. His hand at her rear circled, massaging, then pressed insistently into her asshole. She felt incredible, so tight, and her pleasure glimmered in the Force. Luke admitted he too often neglected this particular erogenous zone. Mara’s shields slipped from the intensity of the sensations coursing through her. Adding another finger to the first, Luke stretched her, testing. Now he could feel a hint of emotion, more complicated, emanating from his wife. Guilt? That didn’t make sense, something else then, shading her enjoyment, preventing her from giving herself completely to it.

He had to shut off that train of thought. She’d told him she wanted to be used. Taken without care or consideration. Mara had offered herself to him—a salacious chalice, his to overfill with impure impulse. 

Her shields were being rebuilt, slowly, wavering when he corkscrewed his fingers inside her. Regardless of Mara’s outward reluctance, each time he pushed, her aura throbbed with concession. And these were the preliminaries. Anticipation… that’s what this was about, and surmounting whatever psychological barrier was holding her back from the freedom that came from total submission. 

Luke rammed one, then two fingers inside her cunt, paralleling his anal intrusion, feeling Mara clamp down and resist. He beckoned his fingers into her wet inner walls, deliberately clumsy, suppressing the compulsion to send her climbing to orgasm just because he could. She pitched in response, hips trying to angle her position better, now taking him in and accepting him. He checked his shields, making sure his surprise at the movement didn't seep out. If Mara genuinely was over this scenario, he was willing to abandon it… He supposed it was possible, but wasn’t convinced. Luke’s fingers left her ass so he could devote his full attention to her clit. 

_Luke… please…_

He didn’t answer, but it was harder this time, that dissimulating plea coated with a need for reassurance. When he had accepted this role, Luke had decided not to consider too carefully what the actual situation would be like, the reality and completeness of the violation she’d demanded. 

He had dedicated himself to making it as erotic and realistic as he could, given the constraints. It seemed like this was a good sign, that she was reluctant yet ready.

Mara’s juices flowed, sticky and delicious, and Luke caved to his own wants, bending down and licking a wide, leisurely swath along her entrance before darting inside her body. She was as addictive as namana and as hot as Espelar. His fingers within pushed harder, his tongue pulling roughly at her clit. He teased it out, teeth threatening her most sensitive spots, making her clench and twist from his oral fucking. When she was stiff and ready, he bit, gently at first, then as he felt the resulting quake in her thighs, harder, imagining the cries she’d be making without that gag between her lips.

Getting to his feet, Luke grabbed one tortured, erect nipple and twisted it, feeling her shock reverberate in the air. Almost sorry, he followed up with a light kiss on her mistreated breast, lingering on its tip, an apology. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her brains out right then and there, marveling at her slickness on his hands, the wetness of her on his chin. His mouth betrayed his eagerness, travelling to the bony area between her breasts, tonguing a path from her navel up her torso. Mara was all tension, sweat shimmering along her hairline and collecting along the lines of her neck as Luke continued to taste her skin like it was a cherished delicacy. His mouth sought her most sensitive areas, fingers everywhere at once, the resulting shock waves denying Mara any attempt to disengage or retaliate.

Once again his lips closed over the tip of her breast and this time stayed there, holding her, sucking for an impossibly long time, until Mara shifted against his mouth, back arching. Luke’s hands snaked over her heated flesh to imprisoned arms, finding knots and working them as he maintained his mouth’s position on her breast, guarding her distended and hard against his tongue. Mara’s remaining defenses crumbled. She slumped in her bondage, a moan barely escaping around the gag.

This was the resignation he’d been waiting for. Luke’s lips left her as he ripped off the thin underwear, the tear sudden and wild. Now Mara was truly exposed, unable to close her legs, unable to cry out… the sensation of complete vulnerability was what he was going for, her understanding that she was helpless.

Luke suddenly wanted to hear her voice, her screams, even, to gauge his success and adapt his strategy if necessary. He could sense her pleasure, as well as her resistance to it. It was an intoxicating dichotomy, this recognition that she wanted it and didn’t want it at the same time.

But there was more to this than just fucking her. Luke moved behind her, his groin flush against Mara’s ass, still clothed. His cock felt like it was made of durasteel, pressing against her thigh with warning and promise. He felt her conflict, frustration, arousal, confusion and … fear. It was suppressed, but it was there, and Luke stopped.

Hesitant, he reached around her waist, the negative impression intensifying. Luke watched a shiver climb her arms. He skimmed his fingers up to her reddened breasts, not back down to her clit where instinct wanted to send him. Mara leaned back, lifting her arms slightly, muscles smeared with perspiration. Damp hair flew against his lips as she turned her head, trying to say something through the gag. Luke wanted to, really wanted to release her. But he was afraid if she spoke, pleaded with him, he would succumb and ultimately disappoint her.

But that fear… She was trying to bury it, to overcome it, but it was there, and it was too strong for him to disregard. Had he triggered something unknowingly? Some distant nightmare she’d buried in her subconscious? Luke let his hands drift back down to rest lightly on her hips, thinking. Mara’s reaction threatened his resolve, and more than that, it bothered him. Fuck, what had he just been doing? He replayed the last moments quickly in his memory, unable to pinpoint anything he could link to this abrupt splinter of fright. He’d attempted to reject that trace of residual fear as a natural component of her fantasy, but it persisted—cutting and virulent. She’d asked for this, why hadn’t they discussed the risk? He was unsettled, feeling inexplicably heartless, and unreasonably annoyed. Luke inhaled with resolve, finding balance in the Force. And it came to him. It’d been a real objection. The fucking gag.

Luke had been thinking this fantasy had been pushing his own limitations, but apparently they’d discovered one of hers.

He moved one hand over her mouth, over the thermoplastic plugging it. He wanted to be clear that she shouldn’t speak. His other hand smoothed across her breasts and around her head, behind to where the buckled fasteners were. One finger slipped under the strap and Mara immediately stilled. Luke could almost hear her in his mind. She would promise to be good if he took it off. He wanted to comfort her, but that would mean an end to the night. And he hadn’t prepared adequate defenses for a verbal confrontation—the gag had been a part of the plan since the beginning. But if she insisted, if she really couldn’t continue, they could finish this right now.

Stifling aggravation at his own weakness along with a host of other negative emotions, Luke unbuckled the gag. Mara panted noisily, gulping in air as he tossed it towards the bed. 

“You fucking--”

He short-circuited the words with another vicious twist of her hardened nipple, a punishment. She was still into this--that much was obvious from the way she’d snapped back into indignation. Mara bit back a gasp and nodded, indicating understanding, and Luke was glad not to feel outrage coming his way. More like relief. Whatever direction this had almost taken, she wasn’t really blaming him for it, and was clearly back in her role. He was invested for her sake, and that seemed to be a good thing.

Luke nibbled her earlobe as he discarded his shirt, dropping it to the floor. Lean muscle pressed into her curved back, burning against her flesh. The message, he hoped, was emphatic—he was in control, he was more powerful, and she couldn’t resist, whatever he intended.

Mara cursed quietly as his tongue glided behind her ear, teeth nipping a stringent line down the side of her throat as he lapped up the glaze of her sweat. She strained in the ankle cuffs, her head and neck the only parts of her that weren’t bound, and jerked away from his oral assault. Luke was getting irritated with the repeated attempts to avoid his lips. Had he read her wrong? Didn’t she want to continue?

His left hand clamped firm and warm against Mara’s forehead, resting there just a second to confirm her readiness before he violently bent her neck back, capturing her lips with his. It had been his intention to repeat the ferocity of earlier, but that strategy disintegrated as Mara dissolved into the kiss, her shields wavering once more, nothing but love and heat being transmitted with her lips. She was grateful and awestruck and confused and incredibly turned on, and that was all the incentive Luke needed to return to his original plan.

Luke felt a whisper of regret at his inability to push her too far, but it was quickly supplanted by the wave of distilled lust that rolled off Mara’s tongue, her kiss turning desperate and hungry. She relaxed into the bonds holding her, lips promising to serve, offering herself up like a sacrifice.

He had spent so much time planning this for her fulfillment, Luke hadn’t really given much thought to how he would respond to it all. That question was now answered, as his pulse raced and heartbeat trebled. This would be easier for him, knowing the fear was gone and her submission total, but she shouldn’t get comfortable—that wasn’t what this was about.

He broke the kiss, hoping his unwillingness to do so wasn’t evident, and got to his knees behind her. His fingers sought her depths again. He spread her ass, licking a long trail between her cheeks, enjoying how she reflexively tightened against his tongue. He could tell how much she liked this, so Luke indulged. Mara pushed her hips back, trying to open further to him, but Luke kept a lazy rhythm, circling her asshole, refusing to give her the relief she wanted. His tongue traced her ridges, enjoying the moans and sharp inhales that resulted from its meanderings. Luke toyed with her, reveling in the currents of pleasure resonating through the Force. He wouldn’t be rushed, and Mara’s pelvis jerked in frustration and dismay as he avoided penetration as long as they both could stand it.

Finally he obliged, his tongue spearing into her, purposeful and firm. This was preparatory, that was the message, as he wet her asshole, licked her, pushed his saliva inside as deep as he could, burying his face in her crack. Her whimpers and spasms were delectable, and Luke realized if he kept eating her like this, she might actually come. So he pulled away with real reluctance, licking his lips and stepping back. This would be over far too soon if he wasn’t careful, and although he could feel the desire and anxiety of his wife to be filled, she’d have to suffer more first.

Looking up, Luke lowered and lengthened the chain, giving slack to the span keeping her standing. He had liked seeing her pulled up, her breasts jutting out, back arched, debilitatingly sexy, but her lips couldn’t serve him from that position. He checked the level and then, using the Force, just because he could, compelled her to her knees before tightening the chain again to maintain the new height. The spreader bar now dug into her shins, but Luke closed off his concern. Pain was a part of this.

He felt her resist the new position, fighting just for a moment before backing off, as if embarrassed by the attempt. Mara was strong, but she was at a disadvantage. And Luke had permission to indulge. Powerless, defenseless, that was what she wanted. No safe word. A thrill of something he couldn’t name migrated from Luke’s stomach to his fingertips. She was his. Rapidly, he checked the blindfold, deciding to leave it in place, and moved to the far side of the room to finish undressing. He needed distance to maintain focus. 

When he returned, Luke paced a slow circle around her, enjoying the view. The chain was tight, the pitiless bar against her shoulder blades held her erect, biting into her skin. She was prostrate, abject, and still as a statue. Finishing his tour, Luke stood before her, naked, ready. 

It was silent. No sounds from the city intruded, as if the rest of the planet was collusive in its approval of Mara’s pending ordeal. Luke glanced briefly to the small window, the night sky’s radiance dulled by grime and the competing glare of artificial streetlamps. As he waited, letting the anticipation peak, he noticed his wife’s ragged breathing, so much louder than his own, steady respiration. A soft clink interrupted as she strained against her bonds. Mara let her head fall back, then opened her mouth as if about to speak.

Perfect. His hands ripped into her hair, tilting her face upwards, and Luke thrust his cock between her parted lips. There had been no preamble, no warning, and Mara gagged automatically, unprepared for this level of violence. She tried to accommodate, lips rolling over her teeth, tongue flattening to channel his length, but he drove in again with the same ferocity. She couldn’t move back or take him shallower; any attempt was thwarted by the hands anchoring her head. 

Luke withdrew slowly, then rammed back inside her throat, balls slapping against her chin. The black of the blindfold darkened from her watering eyes. Still Mara made no protest, and his punishing hands twisted harder against her scalp, possessive and unforgiving. He shoved deep each time, setting a fierce rhythm. Each time he’d plunge into her mouth, then always left her lips extraordinarily slowly, leaving her anticipating the next violation. He didn’t even pause when she eventually resisted. Mara tried to close her lips against him briefly, but Luke rewarded her with a fleeting wave of Force paralysis, his power holding her jaw wide, keeping her face immobile.

Luke got lost in the wet heat of her mouth, each time wanting to go harder, deeper. When she gagged, he made himself continue. Mara could send him telepathic refusals. No safe word, but that didn’t mean he would be able to deny her relief or ignore genuine distress. But she didn’t try, and didn’t resist after he’d circumvented her brief attempt at stopping him.

Mara was good at blowjobs, that was beyond dispute, and even had suggested he could go rougher with her at times, but Luke had never felt the urge to do more than ride the motion of her head with his hands. This brutalization of her mouth, fucking her without regard for her comfort or wishes, had been beyond his imagining. But one of Mara’s wicked whispers had been a stark, unadorned request: _rape my mouth._ This certainly felt like it qualified.

And there was something visceral and satisfying about this, her open mouth wrapped and stretched thin around his circumference. Luke felt his erection get even more rigid between her lips, holding himself deeper, relishing the resistance and heat. He reversed the movement sometimes, sliding her head back and forth along his cock instead of thrusting his hips. The next time he reached the back of her throat, she gagged again. Concerned despite all conviction not to be, Luke stepped away, giving Mara a temporary respite, and glanced between her legs. 

Her thigh muscles were flexed and shiny, juices dripping. Her cunt looked inflamed, and Luke wrenched his mind from the urge to just kneel behind her and fuck her senseless. The liquid evidence of her excitement erased all worries and hesitation, and Luke returned to her face. Mara had sealed her lips into a thin line, and Luke smiled at the pretense. They both were into this, but she was definitely playing her role to the hilt. Well, he wouldn’t be outmatched. 

The Force was fine, but there were other ways to make her open for him. He slapped her cheek, admonishing, and she smirked, shaking her head. Again, a little harder, but if anything the smile broadened on her lips. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, insisting on being subdued. He could oblige. 

One hand returned to her flaming hair, wrenching her head back, as his other thumb and forefinger gripped her nose. He could feel Mara brace herself, sense her refusal to give in, but ultimately her body’s natural defenses attended her defeat. She managed a thin, ragged breath, sucked between her lips before Luke followed the oxygen into her battered throat, releasing her nose and renewing his offensive.

Luke didn’t need the Force to use her, to make her serve his desires. The realization appeared, crude and sudden, in his mind, the source uncertain. It bled into his discipline, underscored by the hard pounding of his cock, distorting her face, pushing against her cheeks, testing her limits. He wouldn’t come, not even close. This was too perfect to speed along.

Focusing, Luke maintained that inexorable, controlled cadence of slow glide, a slam, lazy withdrawal, hard thrust in, leisurely exit, another hard slam inside. It felt like he could do it all day, and saliva and precum mingled and dripped from Mara’s shiny lips as the blowjob got sloppier and lengthier, relentless.

Usually Mara locked onto his face when she sucked him off. The first time, he’d felt self-conscious. Luke didn’t want to know what he looked like to her, but she looked fantastic with his cock between her lips, that jeweled leer completely shameless. Mara’s blowjobs were typically an exercise in domination, her mouth’s ownership of his libido, not a hole to serve it. Luke always found it unbelievably hot, but wondered if now, with her role decidedly flipped, if she’d still meet his eyes with that lewd stare.

Another vicious stab of his cock in her mouth, and Luke tore the blindfold from Mara’s red and watering eyes. Although the room’s light was muted, the unexpected illumination made Mara wince, and her gaze drifted up to meet his as she inhaled deeply through her nose, mouth full of him.

Luke’s looked down, questioning. He had taken off the blindfold looking for a glimpse of something undefinable, he wasn’t even sure himself. Spirit or acceptance, something to confirm that she still assented to this abuse, but Luke realized immediately that he’d miscalculated. She was dedicated to this, refusing to abdicate the role of victim/whore. She would rebuff any tenderness or comfort he wanted to impart here, Luke knew it like he knew the location of each scar on her body. 

Mara lowered her eyes slavishly to focus on the length of him, wedging her jaw wide, surely cramping it. But when next he began to withdraw, she pulled her lips away from her teeth, scraping his sensitive skin as Luke left the moisture of her mouth.

That didn’t feel good. And she’d done it on purpose. She hadn’t met his eyes, but still taunted him, invited him to push her further. He could do that.

Luke’s hands left her hair and he stepped smoothly to her rear, driving two fingers between her legs. Still drenched. Definitely ready for whatever violation he wanted next. The scent and feel of her arousal was torturous. It cut through the haze of his own, bringing with it a sacred epiphany: he owned her completely. Luke had never quite thought of it that way, but now, there was no other description for the emotions surging through the Force. Mara arched against his hand, trying to take him deeper, asking for release, but Luke pulled away. A cry escaped her lips and her shields fell completely. Everything was desire, desperation, her thoughts incoherent with it. She wanted him anywhere and everywhere, the thought of his cock or his tongue or any part of him inside her consuming all else, stopping any other thought from surfacing. Luke stifled a groan at Mara’s revelations exposed to the air, to anyone attuned to the Force. She’d accept whatever he wanted to give her, pleasure or pain or anything in between. Mara’s awareness had been reduced to whatever sensations he offered—agony or euphoria, it scarcely mattered. Everything mingled and overlapped, one feeding the other in a ruthless, complicated, perfect cycle.

His frantic hands were at her wrists, releasing his wife’s arms from the binders. Luke could imagine their soreness, the tingling pain. This time, he pushed away his impulse to rub away her aches and turned his attention to the bar. Lowering the chain, he removed it, and slipped the length of it from her back, trying not to notice the skin’s discoloration, nascent bruises from where it had pressed too hard. Luke threw it carelessly to the side as Mara tried to twist to see him. He steered her head one-handed to stay facing forward, then drifted his fingers down her spine, settling on her hips as he inclined them just so. The brief glimpse of Mara’s mental state had destroyed all perspective, and he couldn’t delay this any longer.

“Luke…” Her voice was weak, low. It felt like a rule was being broken by acknowledging his identity aloud, but Luke didn’t care. After all, he’d kill anyone else who did this to her. He surprised himself though, by answering, vague but calm.

“Mmm?”

Before she could interpret or respond, he’d pushed his knee into her crotch, the pressure heady and distracting, one hand climbing back up the expanse of her back to tangle in her hair. Mara growled, grinding her pelvis against his leg, and apparently no longer had anything beyond his name to offer in the way of conversation. Luke yanked her up by her glorious hair, hearing her bite back a shriek. She was gushing onto his knee, the pain making her pleasure more acute.

His other hand reached for her mouth, covering it, two, then three fingers sliding between her swollen lips. She sucked, trying to swallow him down as if she already missed his cock abusing her throat.

Luke felt his breath coming heavy and jagged as Mara’s spine bowed towards him, the movement elegant and erotic. He jerked harder on her hair, looping his fingers around her tresses, feeling her resistance and surrender alternate in the Force. Her teeth closed on his other hand. His wife felt like fighting? Luke leaned forward, lips landing on the slope of her shoulder, and bit his response to her efforts. Mara’s gasp was everything he could ask for, as she rocked atop his leg. He licked at the spot he’d injured, tongue following the curve of her throat. She panted, trying to find relief against his thigh muscle.

Mara writhed and pushed, latching onto a crescendo that he hadn’t voluntarily orchestrated. Keeping her against him, Luke pulled his hand from her lips, its descent leaving a trail of her spit in its wake. He fisted his cock, guiding it, tracing the seductive cleft of her ass. He didn’t so much lean as fall inside her, his lack of self-control apparent and undeniable. The intrusion was sudden, piercing, and painful for them both, and Luke felt Mara’s body seize, everything working instinctively to expel his invasion with a futile, muscular spasm. His earlier, cursory preparation seemed a lifetime ago, and the friction now was reminiscent of that irritating, amazing pain in the hot spring. His hips moved flush with hers, the bones of his pelvis bruising as he held tight to his position.

Her body fought to adjust as Luke took Mara in the ass, hard and deep. He didn’t offer the opportunity to get used to it before he started moving inside her. So tight. Luke revered his wife’s restraint. She hadn’t expected this, he knew, but he also sensed a brief flare of real pain that menaced his intent. He didn’t want to pause, he wanted to savage her, throttle her, demonstrate his own commitment to the part he was playing, as she’d proven hers. Fuck. Luke located self-control lurking somewhere near insanity, and slowed, then stopped his thrusts, waiting. Let her relax into it. He wouldn’t go easy on her once she had.

His cock rested in her ass until he felt Mara’s muscles loosen, snug but welcoming. She needed him now, but this wasn’t about when she was ready or what worked for her. He wanted her to want it more than him. Luke took in her glistening back, bending briefly to lick a stripe of salty skin. Otherwise, he stayed motionless. Finally Mara wriggled, moving against him, wantonly offering to continue.

He held out as long as he could, watching his cock stretch her asshole and disappear inside as she pumped slowly up and down the shaft. Luke was mesmerized, and rapidly losing his balance on the edge of control. He relaxed his grip on her hair, fingers snagging as the mess and thickness of her mane resisted his departure. Then his hands latched on to her hips as he started to fuck her the way he wanted to fuck her, hard, fast, and implacable, building to a frenzy. Luke’s eyes closed, eliminating everything but the vise of her sphincter and the feel of her beneath, against, and around the contours of his cock. He shifted her waist slightly, plowing deeper, and she screeched. He wouldn’t yield though, the new position even more painfully perfect. He’d fuck her the way he wanted, not the way she preferred. 

His erection was throbbing, trapped and objecting to the clench of her tight muscles, the scrape of their sex, even as Mara shuddered and keened against him. Luke’s breath sped up as she fought and welcomed him, quivering and thrashing, struggling on his cock. As she opened wider, he took more, every concession being met with a new demand. He gave no space now to relax or adapt, driving every inch to her depths. 

He wanted to touch her clit, rub his knuckles against her, speed her to a climax that would shake the galaxy and make her eyes roll back in her head. The desire was a solid, heavy thing, bright and burning in his stomach. It begged for capitulation, boiling in his veins, telling him to give in, offer her release, take his own. Luke wanted to refuse, resisting the daze of constant bliss. He was stronger than this, he would deny her. But the recognition of his right to do so, to regulate Mara’s access to pleasure, was too much for him to deny himself the same. His own orgasm rushed at him with uncaring lightspeed. He tried to hold off, fighting to keep his distance, but the corner had already been turned, and he swelled and came inside her with a stifled growl that did little to convey the rapture of the act.

He pulled out, shattered, empty, and flawless. His nerves felt shredded and raw as the aftershocks of his climax were felt everywhere from his hypersensitive cock to the tips of his ears. 

Mara had fallen forward when he’d released her, and now propped herself up, turning to look at his expression. Her eyes were soft, not burning, and Luke nodded with purpose towards the ankle cuffs, their click signaling her release. She blinked once, twice, as if unable to process the unexpected freedom she’d been granted, then launched herself at him. Luke didn’t know if she intended to reward or punish, but he wasn’t finished with her yet.

He raised one hand slightly, almost as an afterthought, and Mara sank to the floor as his power descended on her with gratuitous strength. She tried to speak but couldn’t, the Force muting her words. 

Mara had told him he could use the Force, and there were no rules. The concept was liberating, the ability to immerse himself in a haze of lust without regard for anything else, that had been tempting and then borderline corrupting. His wife’s preferred role, which had remained persistently outside his realm of understanding, was no longer a mystery. He’d felt Mara’s gratification, and it had pushed him further than he’d known he could go. Buried inside her, despite the violence of it and the knowledge that so much about it was considered kink—the word itself implying something abnormal and wrong—Luke had been overcome by something entirely unexpected. If he had to label it, he would have probably had to settle on some brand of grace. 

He felt ready to accept it, to take in this newly defined dimension to their passion and add it to the stream of secrets she’d already shown him. But before he relinquished his hold over her, there was something else he needed to do.

Luke stood up, his waning erection still painful, his cock having been engorged with blood for far too long. Mara waited on her knees, her eyes flashing, their green light emitting an impossible mix of furious and submissive. Luke smiled, knowing she couldn’t get to her feet, not unless he released her. And he didn’t plan on releasing her, not yet. He had to concentrate, and closed his eyes, sliding into harmony with the Force, feeling it flow around them in the spartan hotel room that smelled of sex and sweat and her... Its power was turbulent, waiting to be directed, responding to their combined energies and emotions. 

He heard her breath hitch and stop momentarily as Mara’s entire body shook and stretched as he channeled the authority of the Force, refining it and entering her. The pressure made her tremble helplessly. Luke raised her to her feet with an imperceptible gesture. His eyes flickered over Mara as she thrashed, flailing as she was devoured by the strength of undiluted energy. It penetrated, claiming her, owning her just as he had moments ago. But this possession was invisible, stronger, rougher, bearing no similarity to anything human. It was pure and untempered, sliding in her openings, fucking her just as surely as a cock, expanding inside her body, leaving nothing untouched. Mara’s hands grasped at empty air, frantic, but Luke’s found hers, lacing in them, reassuring and strong. He stayed close as her body rocked and bent in a disjointed rhythm, hips locked, spine tense, muscles frozen. She screamed from something stronger than ecstasy. Reality had fragmented into something purely sexual, the air in the room vibrating with its essence, transmitted through the Force.

Her fingers pulsed between his, hanging on as if it were a question of survival. Mara’s normal bedroom vocabulary devolved into a mélange of plaintive cries and wracking moans. She writhed, responding to his touch, to the Force that saturated her and worked her desires from within. The light in the room seemed to get stronger, the shadows that had played across her skin disappearing, the glow turning her body almost translucent. Mara’s legs quaked, on the verge of collapse. Luke closed his eyes again, using his own balance to keep her upright. She was coming, but he wouldn’t let the Force uniquely gift all the pleasure. Yanking his wife into an embrace, Luke kissed her, tasting devotion and delirium on Mara’s tongue, all emotional shields dropped as they melted into one another. Her lips were shaking, her orgasm blazing chaos and cascading exquisite destruction. Luke swallowed the scream from her throat, crushing her against him as she shook in his arms. 

They stayed like that for five minutes or five hours, it wasn’t clear, until Mara finally collapsed in an atrophied tangle against her husband. Luke lifted her easily in his arms and carried her towards the refresher.

“Later,” she mumbled against his chest.

He agreed wordlessly, turning to the bed. A sanisteam could wait. The sweat and sex had already cooled on their skin, waiting until the morning wouldn’t change anything.

Soon they were lying exhausted and boneless between the sheets, lumpy pillows discarded. Mara spooned him, slipping one long leg between his, her breath warm and moist on his shoulder. Luke tugged her arm around his chest, already half asleep.

“Nice job, Skywalker,” she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his neck.

“Not such an innocent?” he murmured into the darkness, remembering her jibe at the hot spring.

She laughed softly. “I stand corrected, husband.” There was that exceptionally good mood, and Luke smiled. “But next time…” Mara paused, and he was suddenly wide awake again. She was already thinking about a repeat performance? 

“Next time we’ll have a safe word.”

Oh. The fucking gag. Luke smothered the acrid guilt that tried to surface. He hadn’t had any way of knowing how she’d react to that… But now that she’d bought it up, maybe they should talk about it… He pulled her arm around him a little tighter, feeling just the tiniest bit defensive.

“So about gags…”

Mara’s sigh was steeped in exasperation. 

“Not the gag, Luke, the dress! What got into your laser brain to ruin a vintage F’jlk? Your _sister_ gave it to me.”

She kissed his shoulder, and he could tell that was her way to pause her escalating wrath. Luke thought it was funny, sort of, but knew better than to laugh, and of course there would be no good explanation they could give Leia for what had befallen the expensive gift. Mara seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I’d tell you to stop at Pantora on the way home to get another one but they don’t _make them anymore,”_ she hissed, and then seemed to give up. Luke winced. He’d known the dress was special but hadn’t realized it was irreplaceable.

She was calming herself, and Luke extricated himself from her embrace and turned to face her, planting an apologetic kiss on Mara’s pouting lips. 

“Sorry?” She said nothing, but nodded with her eyes closed. Luke wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close and warm, savoring the feel of her hair under his chin and her cheek on his sternum. He definitely was the luckiest guy in the galaxy. “So what’s the safe word going to be?”

“ ‘Unfashionable’,” she yawned, snuggling deeper into his chest. “Should be easy for you to remember.”


End file.
